Marshall Flinkman 007
by Midnight5
Summary: *Chapter 5 up!* Marshall’s never considered himself to be the ‘secret agent’ type, even if he did work for SD-6. Things change however as a sudden trip to London shows everyone, including himself that he has more promise than even the deadliest of a
1. Chapter 1: The Offer

**Author**: Midnight

**Title:** Flinkman. . .Marshall Flinkman

**Summary:** Marshall's never considered himself to be the 'secret agent' type, even if he did work for SD-6. Things change however as a sudden trip to London shows everyone, including himself that he has more promise than even the deadliest of agents.  Will he give up his life as an 'Op Tech guy' to become a field agent? Or will he remain as he always was? Double-agents, assassinations, elegant parties, beautiful women, The Truth, and more, are all that await him.

**Rating:** PG. . .for now.

**Author's Note: **I noticed that there are just way too little fanfics dedicated to our lovable Op-Tech guy from Alias.  So this is dedicated to him, and everyone out there who thinks that Marshall deserves his own show.  Flames will be used to keep my fireplace burning. Reviews and suggestions are always welcome, and so is constructive criticism.  Enjoy.

**E-mail me at:** varzideh@yahoo.com

~~~~~~

Marshall Flinkman, 'go-to' guy for any possible invention or tech device that existed, was now back at work full time at SD-6.

It had taken several weeks for all his injuries to heal (which thankfully only really consisted of a swollen eye) after being abducted on the way home from Los Angeles International Airport, and yet, here he was. . .back at work.

Spending two weeks on 'sick-leave' was more than he could bear, as he spent nearly all that time either watching the Discovery Channel, or thinking about what had forced him to be sitting at home instead of being at work. 

He still kept replaying the events that happened during his time with Sydney, all leading up to the when they jumped out of the 47th floor window of a building in Mexico City.  There was no chance in hell that he'd be able to wear a dashing tuxedo and walk down a hall full of elegant adornments with Sydney on his arm, or even parachute out a 47th floor window again.

Sydney. . .he still didn't feel at ease around her.  Sure, all his buddies on the tech staff knew that he had a crush on her (since they most likely did themselves), but none of them really knew how sweet and charming she was. . .or the fact that she had voluntarily kissed him.   Of course, she had had no other choice really; getting shot with a tranquilizer dart left little options open for them at the time.  But still, he'd never forget it. 

"Flinkman, Sloane's called a meeting.  You're needed in the conference room in five minutes. . ." a passing security head said to the 'go-to' guy himself as he sat there tinkering with what looked to be an expensive black pen.

Marshall, startled by the sudden appearance of someone in his small 'office', dropped the pen he was holding.

"Alrighty" he said as he bent down to pick up the pen. 

Unfortunately, it didn't go as smoothly as planned.  As he leaned on his chair, it banged right into the table behind him, knocking what seemed to be a dozen bright blue coat buttons onto the floor.  They appeared to explode as soon as they hit the ground, releasing white fumes and quickly encompassing the small office quarters.

Hacking profusely, Marshall stumbled out the door and into the main hall, the white fumes visible behind him, but quickly dying down.

Everyone who has been accustomed to Marshall's 'accidents' didn't even look up from their desks as he apologized loudly and tried explaining what had happened.

Now fully embarrassed, he made it to the conference room without further incident.

Sloane was already seated at the far end of the table, elbows on it, and fingers intertwined.  It seemed as if that was always how Marshall saw him sitting.  To Marshall's disappointment however, Sydney was nowhere to be seen, yet there was someone else in the room that appeared to have been having an intense conversation with Sloane as he entered.

A man, dressed sharply in a dark gray suit, had the same neutral, yet cold expression that Sloane himself often had.  They both looked up as he walked in.

"Sorry I'm late. . .buttons. . .tear ga—" he tried to say quickly, only to be cut off as usual before he continued to babble on.

"Marshall, this is David McNeilly.  He's head of one of our international branches situated in London.  Apparently news of your work here at SD-6 has spread" the head of SD-6 himself said in a neutral tone, as if not really understanding why someone would be impressed to such a degree by a clumsy 'tech guy'.  Of course, as long as Marshall was alive, he was in fact, very invaluable to SD-6's espionage capabilities.

Sloane himself was cut off as Mr. McNeilly himself started to speak. "I've seen your work Mr. Flinkman, and since I have not seen anyone with the amount of op tech skills that you possess, I was left with little choice but to meet with you personally."

Marshall opened his mouth and closed it several times, not knowing what to say first. He was just complimented of course, but what were the reasons for the sudden interest in him? There were hundreds of op tech guys in the CIA, or so he thought, and he doubted that there wasn't anyone better than him. It took him several seconds to realize that the man was once again talking.

". . .so due to my office's present state of disarray, I wanted to ask you if you'd be willing to come work in our London office for the next few months. You're expertise is greatly needed."

'Greatly needed? Wow. . .' Marshall thought to himself, not able to really grasp the fact that he was as important as he was. But that meant just getting up and leaving L.A, which meant leaving SD-6, his weekly Star Wars fan club meetings. . .and Sydney. For some strange reason, the last point seemed of the most importance.

"Am I supposed to go to London?" he started saying unsurely, looking nervously at Sloane. " I mean, I don't kno--"

It didn't seem as if he'd be able to get a word in edge-wise, considering the fact that Mr. McNeilly seemed to have guessed the question before it was asked. . .despite the fact that Marshall wasn't really sure if he was about to ask a question or not.

"You will be given incentives of course" he said with a motion of his hand. "A large office situated in our Op Tech department, a salary plus seasonal bonuses, a company car, and accommodations. . ."

Marshall shifted uneasily in his chair, a dumbfounded expression on his face. "You guys must really want me to go to London if you're offering me all that. And when you say 'accommodations', do you mean like in a hotel room? or more like one of those British flats, because I read somewhere that almost 90% of them contain asbestos. . ."

He didn't see Sloane trying not to roll his eyes, or McNeilly looking at him with one eyebrow arched, and therefore spent the next few minutes explaining how he'd come across the information.

"I am sure you'll find your accommodations to exceed your expectations Mr Flinkman, should you choose to accept." he said assuredly, despite the obvious wearing down of his patience.

"Of course I don't expect you to decide this instant. I am flying back to London tonight, but I'll expect you to tell Arvin here, of your decision within the next 48 hours. We are really in need of your expertise, and I cannot stress enough how much your help would be appreciated."

It seemed as if he'd said the right words as Marshall grinned sheepishly. Obviously he wasn't used to being praised to such a degree, at least not by people he barely knew.

"Sure thing. . .I'll just be off now. . .if you'll excuse me" he said not knowing really what to say.

Feeling bad about turning his back and walking out, Marshall decided to just put up his hand and say good bye while backing up towards the door. With a loud rattle he banged into one of the rotating glass frames which sealed the room, forcing him to turn around and quickly find the nearest exit.

Letting out a long breath he'd been holding in, he went towards the elevator. Pushing the button marked '4', he tried not to think about everything he'd have to think about very shortly. Instead, he hoped that the cafeteria wouldn't be out of frozen yoghurt by the time he got there.

In the meantime, the two gentleman remained seated in the conference room.

"I hold your opinions in high esteem Arvin" he said doubtfully "although I'm not sure why exactly why you want your op tech specialist sent to SD-4."

Finally standing up, Sloane walked slowly around the table, if for no other reason that to do something other than sit.

"Marshall is one of the smartest individuals I have ever come across, despite his unusual personality. After the incident in Mexico City, I figured it'd be wise that in case of another incident, there would be someone at least in the same range of the Marshall's area of skill. Sending him to at least show SD-4's Op Tech team some of his rather useful inventions would be helpful for both our sakes, considering the fact that if Marshall is indisposed of, it would not be such a loss to SD-6."

McNeilly did something one wouldn't really see a man like him do. . .he laughed.

"Arvin, you know that's one of the poorest explanations I've ever heard you come up with. Surely age isn't catching up with you. Considering the fact that SD-1 is sending their head Op Tech specialist here to Los Angeles, it would be rather inconvenient if Marshall saw and found what was going on to be...somehow inappropriate for the 'CIA' to be doing. Am I correct in my assumption?"

All he got in return was a wry smirk. Sitting back down at his desk, Slone watched on his main computer as Marshall boarded the elevator and headed for the cafeteria.

"I'll be in contact with you David during Marshall's stay in London. If I find Marshall's replacement to be just as useful...then there will be no need for you to keep him around. I'm sure if it came to that, you'd be more than capable of disposing of him."

Taking this as a sign that their conversation was ending, McNeilly stood up and headed for the door.

"You can be assured Arvin that SD-4 is just as capable of disposing of inconveniences as SD-6 is. But in any case, I'll be in touch. I'll go ahead and make arrangements for Mr. Flinkman's stay in London, as I doubt he has a choice as to whether or not he'll go, whether he knows it or not."

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2: The Decision

**Author**: Midnight

**Title:** Marshall Flinkman 007

**Summary:** Marshall's never considered himself to be the 'secret agent' type, even if he did work for SD-6. Things change however as a sudden trip to London shows everyone, including himself that he has more promise than even the deadliest of agents. Will he give up his life as an 'Op Tech guy' to become a field agent? Or will he remain as he always was? Double-agents, assassinations, elegant parties, beautiful women, The Truth, and more, are all that await him.

**Rating:** PG. . .for now.

**Author's Note: **I got this chapter out faster that I had hoped.  Please bear with me as the first few chapters are like an introduction.  I promise lots of good stuff to come. As usual flames will be used to keep my fireplace burning. Reviews and suggestions are always welcome, and so is constructive criticism. Enjoy.

**E-mail me at:** varzideh@yahoo.com

**Disclaimer:** In my rush to post the first chapter, I happened to forget to post a disclaimer.  So here it is in all it's glory: All Alias characters and related material does not belong to me, but to J.J Abrams.  Although if he would just give me Marshall and Sark, I'd be able to die a happy woman.

~~~~~

Being offered a chance to work in London (other than on a secret mission) seemed very enticing to Marshall, although he had no idea how he was going to face getting on an airplane again.  At least he knew now that his parachute-lined jackets were definitely useful.

The next two days passed by in a blur, as Sloane kept him quite busy.  He had spent all his time checking and upgrading SD-6's servers, although he didn't know why the task was given to him, as there were specific people in charge of it.  But since there didn't appear to be any missions going on as of late, there had been no need for any of Marshall's inventions or technical advice.  So he was pretty much 'work free', leaving him plenty of time to think about the offer given to him.

Despite the fact that it was offered to him as a choice, he was pretty sure that it wasn't really an option.  After all, in a place where telling someone (even a family member) what you did for a living could get them (as well as youself) killed, things were not 'asked' of you. . .they were 'told'.

Nearing five o'clock in the afternoon, Marshall made his way to Sloane's office.  It was habit for him to become completely incapable of proper speech when he was around his boss.  Luckily conversing with people wasn't what he was paid to do.  Otherwise he'd be screwed.

He was pretty sure that Sloane had seen him walk towards his office, because as soon as he approached, the door opened, revealing Sloane gesturing for Marshall to come in.

"I take it you have come to a decision Marshall. Although I trust you made a wise one" he said neutrally, his eyes boring into Marshall's as if trying to figure out Marshall's decision before he told him.  Of course either way. . .Marshall was off to London.

"Yes, I uh…have thought about it carefully…" he said smiling, and nervously laughing. 

"Last time I was there, in London I mean,  I didn't really get to see much, except for the London Symphony Orchestra.  Did I mention how good they were?  I'm not one for classical mus—"

"Time is short Marshall" Sloane said cutting him off before he could go on. "I take it from your tone that you've decided to take Mr. McNeilly's offer.  A wise decision, of which I'll inform him of shortly."

Picking up his phone Sloane began to dial a number, giving Marshall a look that clearing showed him that he was excused.

Having no clue what to do, Marshall went back and sat at his desk, not really in the mood to do anything, as he had no idea what he was supposed to do now, or what was in store for him.  

He decided to make a quick mental check-list in his head, making sure to remember to ask Mrs. Taylor, his neighbor, to feed his cat, Luke, as well as figuring out how he was going to keep up with the rent of his apartment in L.A, and whether or not he could find someone to send him tapes of the new 'Enterprise' episodes every week..    He had no time to go on any further, however, as Sloane entered his quarters.

"I've just spoken with McNeilly.  He already left your airline ticket with me before he left, in case of your acceptance. . ." he said handing Marshall a British Airways envelope.

"As you can see, your flight leaves tomorrow night at eight-fifteen.  Transportation to the airport will be provided, so you should expect a car to arrive at your place of residence by six o'clock.  When you arrive in London, look for a man holding out a sign that says 'Royal Tours'. That will be your contact and he'll escort you to your location point.  All information needed for your stay in London will be handed to you once you're safely in the car.  I trust you have no trouble following all of this" he said curtly, noticing Marshall's somewhat dazed expression.

"Huh? Oh no…I mean yes, I understand. So I leave tomorrow then? Wow…such short notice.  I mean, can you get by without me? Not that I'm saying that I'm so great or anything. . ." Marshall said in quick succession, about to continue on before noticing the glare that was directed his way.  "Right. . .I'll just be quiet now" he added in an undertone, his eyes cast to the ground.

"Do not worry about leaving your position here.  We'll get by without you until you return.  You're going to be going somewhere where your skills are greatly needed as compared to what you do here.  Have a safe a trip" and with that, Arvin Sloane turned around and walked out of Marshall's office, not really caring whether he saw Marshall again or not.

_The next day. . .eight thirty in the evening._

Sweat dripped off Marshall's face as sat in his first class seat, not really caring that his seat could recline one-hundred and eighty degrees, or the fact that there was an unlimited supply of roasted peanuts at his disposal.  

His mind was focused on the laptop in front of him, which was keeping tabs on the plane's operating controls.  He had no Sydney to try and calm him down, and so by the time he arrived in London ten hours later, he was very much exhausted (although happy to have his feet back on solid ground).

Only having one piece of luggage with him (despite wanting to bring pretty much every single invention he owned with him), he quickly made his way towards the exit terminal as he had nothing to declare in customs.

He immediately spotted a man dressed in a black suit and chauffeur's hat, holding up a 'Royal Tours' sign.  Walking towards him, he was thankful when the man took his luggage and escorted him out of Heathrow Airport.

Despite almost nodding off on his feet as he walked out of the airport, his eyes openly quickly again as he noted that the man was headed towards a black Mercedes Benz limousine.

"Wow. . .all this just for me" he said smiling at the chauffeur as he held the door open for him.  He however, didn't get a smile back in return as the man quickly shut the door and made his way to the drivers seat.

Inside the limousine was a T.V, DVD player, a small refrigerator filled with Ginger Ale (to Marshall's delight), as well as an iced bottle of what looked to be very expensive French champagne.

Sadly, there was no reception on the T.V, nor were there any DVD's for the DVD player, so Marshall was left to just sipping on his can of Ginger Ale, which made him feel slightly better since being on an aircraft.

Nearly spilling his ginger ale on the leather upholstery, he set it down quickly before picking up the phone beside him that had begun to ring.

"Look under the seat beside you. . ." a male voice said, before hanging up.

Assuming it was the driver that had called, Marshall looked under the seat beside him.  Seeing nothing, he tried lifting the seat, which to his luck, opened.

Inside was a rather thick brown manila envelope. Opening it he saw a large folder entitled 'profile' as well as various photographs.  Looking through the photos graphs he was rather impressed with everything he saw.  The first photo was of what looked to be a large Victorian style mansion, similar to a castle. The next couple of photos were of an office building that reminded Marshall of Credit Dauphine, and the last few photos (and ones that he seemed to enjoy the most) were of a lady, who would have looked to even be in her very late teens if she had not been wearing a suit and sunglasses.  She was very pretty to say the least, but she wasn't smiling, which didn't make her seem all too nice.  Of course, turning the photos around, there was no writing, or any indication of what (or who) these photographs were of.

Setting them down, he skimmed through the folder labeled 'profile'.  It seemed to be information regarding his new alias and life, which surprised him as he had had no idea that he'd have to change anything about him.  So for the time being, he was Alexander Benning, a VP of Parsa Global Corporation, which specialized in the import and export of computer parts.

"Hey hey. . .I'm a VP.  It's a shame I can't keep my real name though. Oh well…VP" he said impressively, fighting the urge to call his mom and tell her about his new 'position'. 

"I feel like James Bond!" he said loudly towards the driver.  He did not however, get any answer in return.

Other things included in the profile were his address, phone number, social security number, bank account numbers, as well as his monthly salary, which after he read and counted and re-counted all the zero's, he still couldn't believe.

Making his way towards the driver, he knocked on the black plate that was now separating the front from the back of the car, and hoped to get the drivers attention.  At once the phone rang, and Marshall picked it up.

"Is this really my salary?! Or is this just for document purposes? I mean, I've never even seen this much mon—"

"Everything written in the dossier is accurate, except for the job description which is your cover.  You may speak with the boss tomorrow when you go in for work" and with a click, the line went dead.

Breathing hard, Marshall felt he was very near having a panic attack.  Of course, he didn't even have time to beg the driver to pull over as they suddenly stopped.

They were now in front of what looked to be where the picture of the mansion had been taken.  At least now he'd figure out what the picture was of.

As his door opened, and Marshall got out, he looked around, not understanding why they had stopped here.

"What am supposed to do?" he enquired from the driver, who was now taking out Marshall's suitcase from the trunk.

"These are your accommodations" he said swiftly, while carrying the suitcase to the front door.

"Oh my god. . ." he muttered under his breath, not being able to comprehend why he was being given a new identity, a six digit monthly salary, and mansion to live in.   It was then that he did the only thing that came to mind. . .he passed out.

To be continued. . .


	3. Chapter 3: The Surprise

Author: Midnight  
Title: Marshall Flinkman 007  
Summary: Marshall's never considered himself to be the 'secret agent' type, even if he did work for SD-6. Things change however as a sudden trip to London shows everyone, including himself that he has more promise than even the deadliest of agents. Will he give up his life as an 'Op Tech guy' to become a field agent? Or will he remain as he always was? Double-agents, assassinations, elegant parties, beautiful women, The Truth, and more, are all that await him.  
Rating: PG. . .for now.  
Author's Note: Things will begin to pick up now. Reviews are very welcome.  
E-mail me at: varzideh@yahoo.com  
Disclaimer: All Alias characters and related material does not belong to me, but to J.J Abrams.   
  
~~~~~  
  
Everything seemed fuzzy as Marshall began to regain consciousness. He didn't seem to be on hard ground anymore, but on what appeared to be a burgundy, velvet couch, which was adorned with tiny, golden fleur-de-lis.   
  
Feeling the back of his head, he was relieved to find that didn't seem to have had a bad fall. Why is it that he had to faint? His mom had always warned him not to get over excited, which is probably why she never really let him date much when he was growing up...In her mind, rampaging hormones was a major risk factor to her son's health.  
  
Of course, more importantly, Marshall wondered how he'd gotten into the house (if you could call it that), as he was pretty sure he had collapsed just outside.  
  
"Eric and I carried you inside" said a surprisingly pleasant voice from behind.  
  
Sitting upright, Marshall bit back a laugh. The guy looked every bit like the butler from 'Ask Jeeves'.  
  
"Uh...not to be rude or anything as I know it's not really my place to be rude, even if I'm apparently staying here, which I don't understand at all but-but I'm sure you know why I'm staying here..." he continued on and on, before 'Jeeves' cleared his throat loudly. Thankfully it was enough for Marshall to remember what he was going to ask. "So yeah...who's Eric?" he asked as he looked around.  
  
"You're driver" 'Jeeves' responded as he came forward with a silver tray in his hands; on it lay a damp, white, wash cloth. Marshall took it gratefully, although he still didn't understand what he doing there.  
  
An Op Tech specialist like himself was lucky if he found a decent apartment to live in. This was just beyond the realm of possibility. Why would Mr. McNeilly...or anyone for that matter, spend so much money on one guy? Despite Marshall's almost superhuman IQ, he as unable to come up with an answer.  
  
"As for me sir" the butler responded, a British accent evident in his voice "My name is Williams. I've been informed that you are to now take up permanent residence here at Sterling Manor. If you'll allow me, and if you're feeling up to it, I'll be happy to give a tour of the estate that you ca-"  
  
"Woah...hold on!" Marshall exclaimed loudly, putting out his hands in order to stop Williams from going on any further. Using the wash cloth that was still in his hand, he wiped the back of his neck. "P-Permanent?! I'm not going to be here long! I'm here temporarily! Temporarily as in...not permanent!" he cried. "My mom's going to kill me! And uncle Dan! What's he going to say when he finds out I won't be coming back with the case of ale he wanted! And Aunt Marge! She'll go into hysterics! Of course, rumour has it that she doesn't really like me after her dog Pugsy ate one of my dermal pigment capsules...but I told her not to let the dog in. So you see, I just can't stay here!" he finally finished saying.  
  
He hurried over to the nearest door and quickly opened it, not even looking where he was going. Just his luck, he seemed to have walked into a linen closet, and with a faint click, the door behind him closed, leaving him in total darkness.  
  
Williams had listened quietly to everything Marshall had said, not bothering to try and get in a few remarks. The boss would answer his questions, as it wasn't a butlers place to do so.  
  
Of course, hearing a muffled Marshall asking politely if he could open the door, he strode over and opened the door, looking at the obviously distraught American with a questioning look.  
  
"Perhaps I am mistaken" he said, although he doubted it. "Indeed, in any case, it would be wise for you to know you're way around the estate...no matter how long you plan to stay."  
  
And with that, Marshall followed the butler around the estate, showing him everything including several of the guest bedrooms (which Marshall calculated to be 100 square feet bigger than his entire apartment), the tennis court, the gardens, the kitchens, the swimming pool, movie room, and garage (which housed several sports cars from various brands).  
  
It actually took a little over and hour to go over the entire estate, and luckily one time was all it took for Marshall to remember where everything was situated.  
  
As he followed Williams up a flight of stairs, he was led to the last door on the right. Opening it, Marshall was surprised to find a master bedroom, which could have passed for it's own large apartment.  
  
"This is the master bedroom" Williams said behind him. "As you can see, you're belongings have been brought up. I'll leave you to your own then. If you need to reach me, just press '4' on the speed dial. Good evening sir."  
  
It didn't take Marshall long to notice that there was a white envelope addressed to him propped up on the night-stand.   
  
The planner is for your use only.  
  
It was a rather cryptic message, but Marshall got the hint. Picking up the black leather planner, which had been beside the envelope, he opened it up and flipped through it. It seemed to be completely blank until he noticed that something was written under today's date.  
  
Tailor- 7pm  
  
It was already after four in the afternoon, and Marshall had no doubt that he was either supposed to go somewhere, or someone was going to meet him.  
  
'Tailor...is that like a code name for someone?' he thought to himself as he lay down on his new bed.  
  
He spent the next few hours trying to figure out what was going on, even going to his dresser and looking over the pictures that he had received in the car.  
  
Suddenly the telephone rang with a sharp shrill, causing Marshall to jump in response.   
  
Grabbing the phone, he answered. "H-Hello?" he said cautiously.   
  
"I'll be arriving in ten minutes" a voice said in a neutral tone.  
  
Recognizing the voice as the driver's, Marshall's tension died down somewhat. "Listen, about this afternoon. I heard that you helped take me inside. I really appreciate it. I mean, I know that I haven't really been keeping up with going to the gym lately, so I'm glad that y-you were able to-" he stopped suddenly as he heard the click of the phone on the other end. Eric had hung up.  
  
"Thanks..." he said to no one in particular as he put the phone down and went to comb his hair.   
  
Apparently Eric seemed to have arrived in a hurry, as it had only been a minute since he had called, and yet Williams knocked on the door to let him know that his car had arrived.  
  
Not being able to change clothes, Marshall grudgingly made his way downstairs and out the door (which William's held open for him). Everything seemed so surreal; he had a butler calling him 'sir', the limousine was considered 'his' car, the room he had was considered 'his' room...the list went on and on.  
  
As Marshall said thanks to Williams, he walked out the door and down to the car, where Eric stood holding the car door open.  
  
Not forgetting the rude hang up that he'd gotten from his driver, Marshall resisted the urge to say thank you, and got into the car without a word.  
  
He didn't even bother asking him where they were going, and figured he'd best enjoy the ride.  
  
The ride however, didn't last long as they were soon back in the heart of London. They seemed to have stopped in front of a men's boutique.  
  
Not noticing the sign outside the door, Marshall went in, unaware of what he was supposed to do. That didn't last long, as he saw a man in dark gray suit come up to him. A pleasant smile was on his face, which made Marshall feel slightly better.   
  
"Ah Monsieur Benning! We 'ave been expecting you!" the man said with a heavy French accent.  
  
"Really? I've been expected? That very g-good...I guess" Marshall said as he was pushed towards the center of the boutique.  
  
A small, balding man with a tape measurer around his neck stood waiting by a long row of mirrors.  
  
"You 'ave ordered the most exquisite suits. 'ere...let us get you started."  
  
Before he knew what was happening, Marshall had put on 7 different suits...some casual, and some that he would have called 'super swank'.  
  
He had to admit, he did look quite good in them, but he wasn't exactly sure what all this was for. By now he had figured out that 'Tailor' really had meant going to go get suits tailored, but why? He had never heard of any type of company having such a dress code.  
  
An hour and a half, and ten suits later, Marshall was finally done. Apparently, someone had already chosen the suits out for him before he had even got there, and all he had to do was get them fitted. It wasn't exactly a bad thing, as whoever had chosen the suits had immaculate taste.  
  
"The suits will be ready by tomorrow morning as you 'ave requested, monsieur" the man said happily, no doubt already knowing how much money he had just made on this transaction.  
  
"Uh...thank you Anselm" Marshall said politely, as the man had told him his name. "Just a quick question though...how much is all this costing me?" he said cautiously, not knowing indeed how he was supposed to pay for all of this. Heck, he hadn't even been in London for 24 hours.  
  
"Mais monsieur! Vous avez oublié! Your secretaire called and took care of everything" he said with his eyes shining.  
  
"Ah...yes...my secretary..." Marshall answered unsurely, having no idea that he even had a secretary. "So...it's been a busy few days for me, and I-I seem to have forgotten...what type of-of suits are these?" Marshall asked, feeling rather stupid.  
  
"Monsieur Benning!" Anslem said admonishingly. "You must take a few days off work, non? To clear thee head." Clucking his tongue, and shaking his head he continued "after all, if you can forget ordering ten of our finest Armani suits, then you must be very very busy."  
  
Marshall stood ramrod still. 'Armani? Armani?!!!' While he wasn't exactly the flashiest dresser in the world, he did know that Armani suits didn't cost cheap. Heck the last Armani suit he wore was the tuxedo he had worn on his 'mission' with Sydney. And even then, he had had to return it to SD-6.  
  
He seemed to have gone into a state of shock, which soon went away as Anslem presented Marshall with a glass of wine. Not being a drinker really, Marshall had no taste for it, but downed it anyways.  
  
He held his breath as he walked out of the boutique and back into the car.   
  
The rest of the night passed by in a blur as soon he was back in his bedroom, and after taking a quick shower, climbed into bed and soon fell asleep.  
  
In what felt like only a few hours, Marshall's phone rang next to him. Picking it up, he grumbled a 'hello', only to get a cheerful 'good morning' from Williams who advised Marshall that his transportation would be arriving in an hour or so to take him to work.  
  
Getting up, he trudged around to the bathroom, noticing that a suit bag was hanging from his dresser chair. 'Williams must have brought in it early this morning' he thought to himself as he noticed that it was nine o'clock in the morning. Jet lag was still an issue for now.  
It took Marshall a half hour to get ready, as he took the opportunity to shave before going into work. He wanted to look as impressive as possible, although he wasn't really sure how to do that.  
  
Putting on his new suit, he looked at himself in the mirror. Surprisingly, Marshall looked very dashing in his suit of dark blue. His light blue shirt was tie-less but he still felt as if he was dressed to attend a gala, rather than work.  
  
Going downstairs, he smelled what could only be described as the best smell he had ever come across.   
  
Making his way to the breakfast, he had to stop himself from drooling. French pastries, crumpets, danishes, bagels...everything that one could possible have for breakfast was on the table.  
  
Marshall then realized that he had indeed, not eaten anything since the flight to London. It didn't take him long however, to finish off five cheese danishes, two blueberry scones, and two cups of coffee.   
  
Soon Williams arrived to announce the arrival of his transportation.  
  
This time however, it was not a limousine, but a black town car. Either Eric wasn't a morning person, or he just didn't take a liking to Marshall, as he didn't get out of the drivers seat to help him in. Frankly though, Marshall didn't mind one bit.  
  
The ride lasted only about fifteen minutes as they pulled up to the building that Marshall had seen in the pictures. The sign outside the rather large building read 'Credit Dauphine', which honestly, didn't really surprise Marshall.  
  
The car passed into the lower level garage, and then Eric turned around and spoke. "Take this card with you. You'll need it to access the A-1 level."  
  
Marshall was accustomed to this, as the process reminded him exactly of getting to his office at SD-6.  
  
Getting out of the car, with only a key card in his hand, he made his way to the parking lot elevator. Getting in, he put his card into the slot, which lit up various buttons ranging from A-1 to A-6. Pushing A-1, he waited as the elevator took him down several floors.  
  
He entered a white room and standing in the middle of it, a flash of blinding, red light filled the room. Then the doors opened...  
  
If he didn't know any better, he would have thought that he was back at SD-6. Everything seemed to be set up the same way, from the amount of computers in the main area, to the types of chairs everyone appeared to be sitting in.  
  
No one looked at him as he made his past several stations, but he didn't get far as he heard someone from behind.  
  
"Ah, Marshall. I'm happy you've decided to join us" Mr. McNeilly said with a smile. His expression seemed so different than it had when Marshall had seen him in Sloane's office. Here was a guy that looked warm and friendly, which was not exactly how Sloane looked...on any occasion.  
  
"Hello Mr. McNeilly..." Marshall answered politely, his eyes darting around and looking at everyone surrounding him.  
  
"I trust you liked the suits provided for you. I assumed that it would be a nice way for you to start your work here."  
  
"Yes I-I liked them very much, as you can see" he said, motioning to the suit that on him "although what exactly am I supposed to be working on?" he asked.  
  
The smile on McNeilly's face nearly faded, but he recovered before Marshall could notice. "Patience...patience Marshall. For now, you're set up at the office at the end of the hall and to the left. Your name is on the door already. Feel free to have a look around if you wish. I'll come by later on to speak with you."  
  
And with that, McNeilly left Marshall standing there, in the middle of a room full of strangers, with whom Marshall would now have to work with. Not being a naturally social person, he felt as if it was his first day at a new school.  
  
With a determined sigh, he made his way down the hall and to right, only then realizing as he came to a dead end, that he had gone the wrong way. It seemed as if he hadn't heard a word that McNeilly had said.  
  
Turning around, he looked for someone that looked to be somewhat 'friendly'. Walking back down the hall, he saw a girl at the water cooler, idly sipping her cup of water. She didn't notice Marshall until he came up to her and said hi.  
  
"Hi" she said without emotion, not seeming half as friendly as Marshall thought she would be.  
  
"I-I...I'm having trouble finding my off-" before he could finish, the girl (who he realized was the one in the photographs he had) walked away from him. This made Marshall more self-conscience than before, as he was left standing talking to no one.   
  
"Well are you coming or not?" the girl said as she turned around to look at Marshall. Apparently she had been heading towards his office...without really telling him.  
  
Running to catch up with her, he followed her until they arrived at a door, which said 'Marshall Flinkman'. Strangely, it did not say his position as it did on all the other doors.  
Opening the door, she motioned for him to go in. "Here you are. I trust you'll remember how to get here next time" she said without a smile. As she turned to walk off however, she stopped and appeared to stand motionless for a second or two, before turning around and heading back towards Marshall.  
  
He really didn't know what was going on in that pretty little head of hers (he had indeed noticed that she was sort of pretty. No one could really compare to Miss Bristow however), but he was rather surprised when she walked up to him and held out her hand. "Agent Fenyvesi."  
  
"Marshall..." he said in return, sticking out his hand and shaking hers.  
  
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked off, leaving a very confused Marshall behind.  
  
For the next four hours, Marshall spent his time looking through all the gadgets and computer systems that were in his office. He had to admit though, that he liked this office much better than the one in Los Angeles, as he had at least twice as much space now, as he did then.  
  
Everything seemed identical to the objects at SD-6. So far he had seen no problems with their servers, or any security risks whatsoever. So he assumed that he was there for his 'gadget skills'.  
  
Suddenly, his door opened and in came a very grave looking McNeilly. His face seemed pinched and stern, as if he was reluctant to be there at that precise moment.  
  
"Five minutes ago I received word that one of our top agents was assassinated. Due to this...devastating news...it requires me to move a little faster than I intended..."  
  
So far Marshall had no idea what his 'new' boss was talking about, as he had only gotten the 'someone important was assassinated'.  
  
"I need you to follow me, please" he said as beckoned Marshall to follow him.  
  
McNeilly led the way to a room on the opposite side of the hall. Inside a petite woman who looked to be in her late thirties greeted them. She sat beside what Marshall immediately recognized as a computer-like device, which is used to give out functional imaging tests...in other words...an un-deceivable lie detector. .  
  
"I-I don't understand" Marshall said, looking at McNeilly expectantly.   
  
"It's just simple procedure. A simple yes or no will do. If you fail to tell the truth on a single question..." McNeilly let the sentence slide, making it clear what would happen.  
  
As Marshall went to sit down in the chair, rather uncomfortably, McNeilly spoke quietly with the lady that was monitoring the controls.  
  
"Some of the questions...may seem a bit shocking to you, but try and focus please" McNeilly said as he walked out of the room, and headed towards another small room where he could watch Marshall through a one-sided mirror.  
  
The interrogation started simple enough. The lady, who nicely introduced herself as Agent Briggs, began asking Marshall simple questions such as: Is your full name Marshall J. Flinkman?, Do you work for SD-6?, etc...  
  
After Marshall seemed to get comfortable with the questions being asked of him, he noticed that they now took a sudden turn.  
  
The questions got rather specific in nature, but Marshall answered as calmly as he could. Before he knew it, the interrogation was over, and Agent Briggs gave him a warm smile.  
  
"There now...all done" she said a bit cheerily. But her expression dampened as she heard a voice come over her intercom.   
  
"Ask him, Briggs" said the voice, which Marshall identified as McNeilly's. Apparently, he wasn't done just yet.  
  
With a small sigh she turned around and looked at Marshall again. He could barely comprehend the question that was asked.  
  
"Were you aware at all that SD-6 and all it's divisions are enemies of the CIA?"  
  
  
To Be Continued. . . 


	4. Chapter 4: The Briefing

Author: Midnight  
Title: Marshall Flinkman 007  
Summary: Marshall's never considered himself to be the 'secret agent' type, even if he did work for SD-6. Things change however as a sudden trip to London shows everyone, including himself that he has more promise than even the deadliest of agents. Will he give up his life as an 'Op Tech guy' to become a field agent? Or will he remain as he always was? Double-agents, assassinations, elegant parties, beautiful women, The Truth, and more, are all that await him.  
Rating: PG. . .for now.  
Author's Note: I seem to be getting the chapter's out pretty quickly, although I'll probably begin to slow down pretty soon. In this chapter...Marshall deals with the initial shock of learning The Truth, as well getting ready for his first mission...  
E-mail me at: varzideh@yahoo.com  
Disclaimer: All Alias characters and related material does not belong to me, but to J.J Abrams.   
  
~~~~~  
  
"Huh? What?! No!" Marshall said, trying to get out of the device he was sitting in. Then, with a sudden change, he started laughing. "This is some sort of joke r-right? Wait...I know, this is some sort of testing procedure or somethi-" he said with a slight tone of desperation, before being calmed down by Agent Briggs.  
  
This couldn't be happening to him. He had spent years working for SD-6. There was no possible way that SD-6 was well...evil.  
  
"You're lying..." he said, shaking his head as he held it in his hands.   
  
In the meantime, McNeilly, who had been watching from afar, came in and took a seat next to Marshall.  
  
"Please understand that we had no other option but to tell you the truth Marshall. Things are getting bad, despite all that's being done to prevent SD-6 and The Alliance from gaining power. The information that you have alone, would be enough to severely cripple the organization" McNeilly said calmly, as he laid a pile of documents down on the table.  
  
"I understand that it's quite a blow to take, and that you may feel that we're being false as it were. But I've gotten clearance to show you, what I hope you will consider proof of our words."  
Everything McNeilly said went through one ear and out the other. It all seemed hazy to Marshall, as if he was in some sort of dream...that had little by little turned into a nightmare.  
  
How could people, who he had worked with for so many years be bad? Dixon...Sydney! He couldn't believe that they were bad people. Heck, he had even met Dixon's wife and kids once! Not to mention that fact that he and Sydney had saved his life.  
  
Lifting his face out of his hands, he realized that he was alone in the room. He hadn't heard either McNeilly or Agent Briggs leave him to his own. That was about two hours ago.  
  
Marshall considered himself to be a trusting person, but what they had just told him was impossible for him to believe without some sort of proof.  
  
'Proof...' he thought to himself as he looked over at the pile of documents that McNeilly had brought in.  
  
He spent the next three hours reading through every single piece of information that was presented to him. Deals with terrorists, government assassinations...he couldn't believe what he was reading.  
  
Standing up, he slowly made his way over to the door, which opened before he could even touch the handle.  
  
McNeilly was back.  
  
"This is...this is just...I can't believe this. Even after all I've read. Everyone I've worked with....they can't be bad." Marshall said, he eyes pleading with his new boss.  
  
Motioning for Marshall to take a seat, McNeilly sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. Clearly, he really hadn't enjoyed doing what he had just done.  
  
"Just like your situation, none of the employees of SD-6 or any other division, are aware that they are counter-working against CIA. Only head members and directors are aware of the truth, and even then it's strictly kept confidential. There are however, a few employees amongst them that work for the CIA...but of course, I cannot talk about that any further..."  
  
Marshall didn't hear the rest. He just hoped beyond hope that one of those few employees was Sydney. She was sweet, and smart, and didn't deserve to work for an organization that was responsible for destroying so many lives, and keeping everyone in the dark about who they worked for. But there was one thing he still didn't understand...  
  
"Wait wait...hold the phone" he said, in a way not unlike his usual self. "But you're head of SD-4. You were talking with Sloane. I-I mean..I was there. And there've been countless times when we've contacted you guys for help on things. How do you explain that, eh?"  
  
"The CIA was able to finally infiltrate The Alliance, by eventually making SD-4 a covert branch of the operation. We still of course have to do what is ordered by The Alliance to keep our cover, but we do provide various counter measures against missions assigned to us. The head members of the Alliance, which are comprised of SD section leaders themselves, are constantly being watched and monitored. Since not all SD section leaders are head members, they are not monitored to such an extent, so therefore, I am able to remain head of this section" McNeilly explained.  
  
Getting up, McNeilly went and opened the door. "Your car is waiting to take you back home Marshall. We'll talk more tomor-"  
  
"When you say home, do you mean 'home' home, or the enormous mansion?" he said uncertainly.  
  
McNeilly smiled a bit. "I believe that the answer to that question would be 'the enormous mansion."  
  
And with that, McNeilly left the room, but not without one last question.   
  
"Mr. McNeilly sir...c-can I call my mom? She's used to me calling her every twelve hours. If I was back in the States, I'm sure the National Guard would be out looking for me..."  
  
"You may call your mother. But no one else. See you tomorrow."   
  
As McNeilly left, so did Marshall. He really did regret coming to London, despite knowing the truth. He had been happy as a naïve technical operations officer. Now he felt as if he'd been flipped over and had no idea which way was up.  
  
As Marshall got in his car and headed home, the day was not over for McNeilly or the rest.  
  
***  
  
"This is ridiculous! Why did we have to tell him! I've watched him for a long time now McNeilly, and frankly, I think this was a bad move" Agent Fenyvesi said angrily at her superior.  
  
"It was my call, Leila" he said calmly, trying not to lose his temper. "Arvin Sloane now considers Marshall to be too much of a risk factor. He knows that Marshall has the ability to single handedly take down SD-6 and possibly other cells. I know that you've been assigned his case for the past year, but now is the perfect time for us to take him in. You've seen his psychological evaluation...I've never seen anyone that intelligent, and that's saying something."  
  
"But he's Marshall!" she exclaimed, as if that would explain everything. "How can you possibly think of keeping him safe here! He's not an agent...and he's never had any combat training. It would only be a matter of time before things start looking...odd."  
  
"I wouldn't worry about that. Since Mr. Flinkman already has extensive knowledge in a variety of areas, it won't take long to have him achieve field clearance. He'll be an agent sooner than any of us think."  
  
***  
  
Lying in bed, Marshall wasn't able to sleep. He did feel better after talking to his mom, despite having not really being able to get a word in edgewise, as she yelled and scolded him for not calling sooner.  
  
He kept thinking about all those people that he had worked with for years...all those people had no idea that they were the bad guys. And himself! He couldn't shake the guilt that came over him when he realized the truth. His inventions...his technical skills...they aided SD-6 in achieving their goals. 'Well not anymore' he thought determinedly, before giving up to the sleep that overcame him.  
  
***  
  
SD-4 Headquarters 10:15am  
  
Jet lag beginning to lose its hold on him, Marshall was back at SD-4 feeling much better than he had been yesterday. Sadly, feeling physically better didn't mean that he was a better emotional state. He hoped that he'd be given something to do, otherwise he'd probably go back to thinking about everything he had been told. Keeping busy was the solution.  
  
As Marshall walked into SD-4's main quarters, he was in luck as McNeilly approached him.  
  
"Hello Marshall. I trust that you feel a bit better this morning" he said sincerely. "At least, I hope you are since there are things that we need to discuss."  
  
Very unlike himself, Marshall's eyes narrowed at McNeilly. "N-not meaning any disrespect, but what the hell is there left for you to tell me? I think we've pretty much established that my life has taken a three-hundred and sixty degree turn" a usually shy Marshall said somewhat angrily.  
  
Either Marshall didn't seem to give the impression that he was angry well enough, or McNeilly chose to ignore it as he asked Marshall to follow him into the conference room.  
Again a sense of deja-vu came over him as the interior was identical to the one back at SD-6. Five chairs were positioned in front of five computers on each side, plus one chair at each end of the table.   
  
One of the chairs was occupied however, as both McNeilly and Marshall entered. Agent Fenyvesi, as Marshall remembered her telling him, was seated at the far end of the table, and if he was not mistaken, she seemed well...pissed off.  
  
As McNeilly took a seat at the other end of the table across from Agent Fenyvesi, Marshall sat down between them.  
  
"Let me cut right to the chase Marshall" McNeilly started in a serious tone "you have the highest IQ on record at the CIA as well as SD-6, not to mention a photographic memory, demolitions expertise, and frankly I could continue to list everything else that you excel at, but I think we'd be sitting here for quite a while if I did so" he said a bit jokingly, as if trying hard to lighten the mood.  
  
All it seemed to do however was make Agent Fenyvesi glare even more at McNeilly, and served to make Marshall very uncomfortable. There had to be a point to all of this.  
  
"Considering the fact that you have more expertise in areas that are required to be a field agent, the CIA believes that with a few months of combat and firearms training, you'd be one of the best agents we have" and with that, McNeilly leaned back in his chair, watching Marshall intently.  
  
The room was silent for several minutes as Marshall stared open mouthed, and wide eyed at McNeilly.  
  
"I-I'm sorry...but you must think I'm crazy!" he suddenly exclaimed "I had my share of spy work the last time I was in London, and to tell you the truth, I don't really like how that one almost ended! Firearms training?! Heck, my mom wouldn't even let me own a toy gun at all when I was a kid! I-I don't even know which way to hold one!" he said as his voice got louder and louder.  
  
Agent Fenyvesi seemed like a fly on the wall, as she made no comment or sound. Frankly, she agreed with Marshall. It was ridiculous to put someone like him in the field. Besides, she knew just by monitoring him that he wouldn't haven't in him to do many of the things that being a field agent would require him to do.  
  
"Marshall, try and understand; in only a few months, maybe even as little as three, you'll be a full fledged field agent with all the clearance you could possibly wa-" he was cut off again by a frantic Marshall.  
  
"Clearance?! I-I don't want clearance! I'd be happy not knowing half the stuff that the CIA does. Just g-give me a nice office so I can do my job as a technical operations officer...please?" he added meekly, hoping that somehow he'd get his way.  
"Sloane wants you dead, Marshall" McNeilly said bluntly, and continued without paying attention to his reaction. "Now, it is in your best interest to undergo field agent training...for your own safety mainly. And I am not saying that you will be constantly traveling or on assignment. On the contrary, you are much more valuable as an op tech specialist" he added casually " but there will be certain occasions when your personal assistance in an assignment will be very valuable to its success."  
  
Looking over at Marshall, who now seemed more composed after hearing McNeilly's speech...especially the bit about Sloane wanting him dead.  
  
"W-what exactly do I have to do?" he asked his superior cautiously.  
  
"You'll undergo training for a few months. A monthly evaluation of your progress will determine how long it will take for you to receive field clearance. It can range anywhere from two months to two years. Of course, with your natural acceleration at anything you put your mind to, I'm assuming you'd be nearer to the 'two month' category.  
  
Training starts tomorrow. Until it's over, you most likely won't have any need to come in to the office. Your days will mostly consist of going from your residence to the training grounds, and vice versa. We'll be in touch. I suggest once again that you go home early today, as you'll need all your strength tomorrow" McNeilly finished saying, as he smiled.  
  
With that, Marshall got up, looking a bit lost, and left the conference room, heading back down to his car, which had apparently been told to wait for him.  
  
He had no idea what he was in for...and he knew it.  
  
***  
  
For the next three months, Marshall spent six days a week training in a large airplane hangar at London City airport. At first, he had no idea how he was going to learn everything that no doubt Sydney had learned, and even then...learn it in a fraction of the time. But it seemed that once he got over the fear of actually hurting his instructors (and himself), it was no surprise to anyone (except Marshall) that he quickly excelled at various combat techniques.  
  
Firearms training was slightly different as he really didn't even like to be near them, let alone touch them. It took him a month to learn how to clean, re-load, and aim a pistol, and frankly, that was all he wanted to know. Unfortunately for him, there were a vast number of firearms that he needed to become acquainted with.  
  
Other than firearms and combat training, he surprisingly had to study theatre arts along with various other 'useful' techniques. This seemed to prove most difficult, as for example, during various mission simulations in which he was supposed to be speaking with a French dialect, he would unconsciously switch from a French accent, to a Cockney accent, and back again.  
  
The only good thing that Marshall thought came out of all this, was the fact that he had actually gained some muscle. When he was not working out during training, he was required to spend at least an hour or two working out in his gym at home.  
  
Thankfully, exactly at the end of the three-month mark, McNeilly paid Marshall a surprise visit.  
  
"I see that you've been quite busy." McNeilly said pleasantly. "Meet me at headquarters tomorrow morning around ten o'clock."  
  
"A-Alright" Marshall said nervously. Despite all that training, the one thing that hadn't seemed to change was his personality. He could act if he needed to, but in general, he hadn't changed at all.  
  
Wondering what he was being called in for, he continued with his training until finally heading home.  
  
The next day, SD-4 Headquarters 10:00 am  
  
Marshall felt better than he had in a long time. He hadn't been near a computer for the past three months (as there were none with internet access at his house), and he really felt as if he was going through computer withdrawal.   
  
He hoped against hope that he was going to be told that he could resume his position as op tech specialist, and get back to tinkering with his inventions.  
  
"In here Marshall!" he heard McNeilly say from the same conference room...which had sentenced him to his doom three months prior.  
  
He braced himself for what was about to happen. The only other time he had felt so nervous was right before Aunt Ruthie showed up for Flinkman family picnics. He shuddered at the thought.  
  
"Good news Marshall...you're training is now fully complete. The only thing now is for you to actually test your skills in an actual setting" McNeilly said as there was a knock on the door.  
  
"You wanted to see me sir" a female voice which Marshall seemed to remember even though she had only spoken about three words to him in total.  
  
"Ah yes...come in Leila." McNeilly said, motioning for her to take a sit next to Marshall.   
  
She eyed Marshall quickly before turning her attention back to McNeilly. She seemed much more calm and relaxed than she had been the last time that Marshall had seen her. He didn't have time to think much more about it, as McNeilly seemed to be speaking to him.  
  
"The Alliance has spent nearly a year trying to acquire all Rambaldi artifacts, and despite their success in this area, (more specifically SD-6's success in this area) it has come to our attention by looking ever so briefly at Rambaldi's history, that while he had no siblings, he was indeed very close to his cousin Victor Giannini. The Alliance believes that throughout the course of their lives, both Rambaldi and Giannini worked together on various projects...more than anyone thought existed."  
  
"So what exactly are you saying? That they traded secrets?" Leila questioned.  
  
"In a way, yes" McNeilly continued. "Their relationship seemed close enough as to make us certain that they told each other everything. That however changed. Historical sources state that they had an argument later on in their lives as they both tried to take sole credit for an invention they both worked on. What that invention is, we do not know. But what we do know, is that because of this feud, they both divulged each other's secrets in some of the many pieces of literature that they wrote towards the end of their lives. Intel indicates that a long roll of parchment that is said to have been written by Giannini, has many of the secret inventions and observations that Rambaldi tried hard to keep secret."  
  
Despite Marshall keeping relatively quiet throughout McNeilly's briefing, he was thankful that Leila (as Agent Fenyvesi had been called), seemed to be asking the same questions that he himself wanted to ask.  
  
"So where exactly is this said scroll?" Leila asked, wondering where it could be that it was obvious that discretion would be key to obtaining it.  
  
"That's where you both come in. It's located in La Saint Chapelle cathedral near Paris. The KGB have somehow been made aware of this scroll as well, so instead of risking being seen by KGB members, you're both going to be playing tag-along. An insider source tells The Alliance that two of the KGB's field agents will be going in as French government officials who have arrived as if to see whether or not it should be one of the cathedrals that the Pope should visit when he comes to France next month. By the time you arrive at the cathedral, they'll most likely be two-steps ahead of you. Ask for Paul DeJeune and Edith Cole, those are the alias' that the agents should be going by. Follow their trail and acquire the scroll. Unfortunately we are not sure of the exact location of it, so we're going with the assumption that the KGB has an idea of where it's located. Marshall?" McNeilly asked him suddenly.  
  
"Huh...what?" Marshall said, having been so focused on what McNeilly had been saying.  
  
"Here's where you'll probably enjoy your job the most. You'll have the full briefing of your mission on your desk by the time we're done. Based on that, anything you and Leila will need to disarm the KGB agents and obtain the scroll, falls to you. I'm trusting your expertise in this area to come up with everything and anything that you'll need to complete the mission. You both leave for Paris in four days."  
  
"Wait...while that's all fun and...fun, with the whole gadget part" Marshall started "do I really need to go along?" he asked nervously.  
  
"Unfortunately, your photographic memory is the key reason you're needed this time Marshall. While it would be much simpler to just take a picture of the scroll, there has been much speculation as to whether or not taking a picture of it would result in its destruction. Rambaldi seemed to have been able make his pages so sensitive to light that any flash of a camera would make the words fade right off. We do not want to take that same risk with Giannini's."  
  
Standing up, McNeilly held open the door for them.   
  
Marshall and Leila stood up simultaneously and together walked towards the door. As they exited, they couldn't help but hear McNeilly advise them to get better acquainted since they were going in together on this one.  
  
"I couldn't help but hearing your name is Leila. That's a very nice name..."Marshall said as he tried to make conversation as they walked down the hallway. "Aren't it's   
origi-" he was cut off as Leila make a quick right turn and went into her office.  
  
Of course, she couldn't help but turn around and smirk.   
  
"See you in Paris, Marshall" and with that, she closed the door. 


	5. Chapter 5: The Mission

Title: Marshall Flinkman 007  
  
Author: Midnight  
  
Feedback / E-Mail: Reviews are welcome. Feel free to e-mail me at: varzideh@yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: All Alias characters and related material does not belong to me, but to J.J Abrams.  
  
Classification / Genre: Action/Adventure/Romance  
  
Summary: Marshall's never considered himself to be the 'secret agent' type, even if he did work for SD-6. Things change however as a sudden trip to London shows everyone, including himself that he has more promise than even the deadliest of agents. Will he give up his life as an 'Op Tech guy' to become a field agent? Or will he remain as he always was? Double-agents, assassinations, elegant parties, beautiful women, The Truth, and more, are all that await him.  
  
Rating: PG.for now  
  
Author's Note: Since both Marshall and Leila are on a mission together, you'll see a lot of Leila's perspective of things in this chapter. Also, in regards to the French spoken, I've put the English translation of it at the end. Enjoy!  
  
Chapter 5: The Mission  
  
Luckily for Marshall, no flying was involved with going to Paris, as they were taking the Chunnel which would have them entering France within three hours.  
  
Train tickets were untraceable and therefore it wasn't such a bad trip as Marshall sat beside Leila (who spent the entire time reading Le Monde).  
  
In all of the time that they had known each other, Marshall doubted that she had even said more than twenty words to him. He wondered if it was something about him, or just the fact she didn't really like anyone.  
  
***  
  
Most of the day passed by in a blur as they took separate cars to the hotel and checked in to their rooms. Their cover for the time being was that of them attending a business convention. Details didn't really seem necessary for the moment.  
  
The only communication Marshall and Leila had was when she had knocked on his door and told him that they needed to survey the hotel and all the exits just in case something should arise. That only took about forty-five minutes and after that they parted and went back to their respective rooms.  
  
The CIA was tracking the KGB activity around the cathedral, so if any registered KGB members were seen nearing it, both she and Marshall would be notified. They were only ten minutes away from the cathedral by car.  
  
There was only so much Marshall could do however, to keep himself occupied for the day. French TV didn't really interest him, and he didn't want to risk going down stairs to look around, as he wasn't sure what precautions they were taking.  
  
After two hours of boredom, Marshall gathered enough courage for what he was about to do. . .  
  
***  
  
Hearing a knock at her door, Leila opened it to find a nervous looking Marshall standing in the hallway.  
  
She wasn't able to ask him what he wanted, when he started talking rather fast.  
  
"Oh! H-Hey there. . .I-I. . .well considering the fact that it's time to eat. . .you do eat don't you? Of you-silly question. I-I'm hungry so I'm going down stairs to the restaurant; I just. . .will you come eat with me? If you've ordered room service of something I understand. I-I'm going now, so it you want we could just-well bye" Marshall quickly turned around and started walking away, not even waiting for an answer. Unfortunately for him, he didn't realize that Leila was biting back a smile, before quickly yelling for him to wait.  
  
"Hang on their Marshall. I'll come with you" she said as she went back inside her room to grab her purse.  
  
As she caught up to Marshall, she quickly passed him in the hallway, only to realize that he hadn't budged.  
  
"Uh Marshall? For us to go to dinner, you actually need to move" she said in a rather humorous tone.  
  
Grabbing his arm she slowly led him to the elevator, as little by little Marshall came to his senses. The serene elevator music seemed to have snapped him back to reality as he quickly noted that he was no longer standing in the hallway, but rather in an elevator with a slightly worried Leila.  
  
"You s-said okay."  
  
If Marshall thought things couldn't get any weirder. . .he was wrong. Leila actually began to laugh.  
  
"Oh course I said okay" she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. " It's just dinner, not to mention the fact that I'm really hungry" she said as they arrived at the hotel lobby.  
  
Marshall's initial shock being over, he was able to converse (to the best of his ability at least) with his new partner. She wasn't really all that bad, once you got past the whole cold hostility thing she had going on. To his surprise though, she found his stories rather funny, and had smiled or laughed at all his jokes.  
  
He knew that he was talking on and on (totally forgetting about the Filet Mignon that was in front of him), but he didn't care. She actually seemed to be listening to him. . .and she didn't seem bored in the least. Unfortunately for him though, whenever he asked her a question about herself, she merely gave a one-sentence answer and would quickly change the topic. He took it as a sign not to ask her about anything she didn't openly tell him herself. . .but that wasn't much, as she hadn't even told him her name. . .he had had to learn it from McNeilly.  
  
After about an hour of sitting in the restaurant, Marshall realized that it was getting late, and he had no idea when they would be notified of KGB activity.  
  
"Well I'm stuffed. . .and that's saying a lot let me tell you" Marshall said as he took a sip of his water. "I-I mean if you had been at the last Flinkman family picnic, you probably would have been full just watching m-" he cut himself as he realized he had totally digressed from what he had wanted to say. "I-I'm just gonna head off to-back to my room" he finished saying.  
  
"Good" Leila said as she got up from her table, making sure that she had left enough Francs. "I'll come with you then."  
  
"W-What?" Marshall exclaimed with shock "to M-MY room?"  
  
Apparently he was missing something as she shot him a look. "Yes Marshall, to YOUR room. If you recall, we haven't gone over any of the 'gadgets' I guess you would call them. Since they're in your room, and I need you to clarify what everything is, I assumed that the logical thing to do would be to go with you to your room. If that's not a problem?" she asked bemusedly.  
  
"Oh. . .no, that's fine. I mean hehe. . .of course. Go over the equipment. . ." he muttered the last bit to himself as they both heading back to his room.  
  
Various objects were sprawled out on the dresser in the small room. Little objects from small shirt buttons to larger ones such as a powder compact seemed to be laden everywhere. Careful not to touch anything, Leila followed Marshall to a small black leather bag that had been under the bed.  
  
Opening the bag, Marshall put his hand in, and (what could only be described as painfully slowly) brought it out again to reveal what looked to be three light blue marbles.  
  
"They're marbles" Leila stated, looking at them warily.  
  
"Oh no. . .these babies aren't marbles. They're coating is actually rubber and I'd bounce them to show you b-but of course that's a big no-no" he said putting them into an ashtray on the bedside table.  
  
"Anyways, as I was saying, their structure is held by an thin layer of rubber, actually based on the resin found in chewing gum which is of course, pretty neat considering the fact you wouldn't imagine a piece of grape Bubble Yum to be made from w-what this is made of. But those gum guys always come up with the greatest stuff to chew o-"  
  
"Marshall" Leila interrupted condescendingly, reminding him very much of Sloane.  
  
"Right, sorry, anyways, inside each of these balls there's about two doses of Halothane, which is what they use usually in general anesthesia. It's not enough to knock someone out for several hours, but each should last up to about fifteen minutes. Now, I know what you're thinking. . .how is the gas inside going to g-get outside and make everyone go. . ." Marshall closed his eyes and snored for effect. "Well, each time the ball is bounced the pressure inside the ball increases. It should take three bounces for the rubber to split and release the compound. And the beauty of it is that as the compound is release the chemical coating on the inside of the rubber reacts with the air, causing it to dissolve. So whoever gets a dose of this, can look and look, and they won't find anything. They'll pretty much think that they've fallen asleep. Of course that depends on where you use it. So. . .what do ya think? Pretty sleek if I do say so myself."  
  
"Impressive. . ." she said, eying the rubber objects once again. "Now, what else do you got for me?"  
  
They went through a couple of other things including a laser digital watch, grenade cufflinks, as they weren't really sure what they were going to come up against when the time came. Yet considering the amount of 'gadgets' that Marshall did in fact have, it didn't seem as if there would be any difficulties. However, for Leila, nothing matched a good firearm.  
  
As Leila went back to her room, Marshall let out a breath that he hadn't even known he'd been holding. He seemed way too eager to impress Leila with his work, which wasn't really good for his nerves. With a deep sigh, he got ready to go to sleep, hoping that everything would go well, and that nothing bad would happen. 'Just grab it and run, just grab it and run' he chanted to himself as he drifted off.  
  
***  
  
The next morning 9:30 am  
  
It seemed all too soon that Marshall heard the loud ring of the phone. Slightly disoriented, he made no real effort to grab it, until realizing as he looked around, where he was and why he was there.  
  
Picking up the phone, he heard Leila at the other end, sounding hurried and under pressure. Apparently KGB was taking action, and both Marshall and Leila had to be there to make sure that no one but themselves ended up with the scroll.  
  
Within fifteen minutes Marshall was dressed impeccably in a crisp business suit (one of the Armani's which he had never worn) and a pair of wire rimmed glasses. Gelling back his hair, he looked in the mirror shocked at the serious looking guy he saw before him. Smiling didn't seem to look good with the suit, so he settled for a small grin as he made his way to the lobby to wait for Leila.  
  
It didn't take long for her to follow in black business suit with a black turtle-neck, and a leather briefcase in her hand. She also had on a pair of glasses, but Marshall thought she looked much better in them that he did, despite the fact that she looked serious enough as it was without them.  
  
A black Bentley with French government plates was already waiting outside for them as they exited the hotel. Getting in, Leila adjusted her com set which was carefully hidden behind her ear.  
  
Marshall in the meantime tried hard not to look nervous as they got nearer to the cathedral.  
  
"Alright, we're good to go. There are two CIA vans rotating around the cathedral, so hopefully if there's any trouble we'll have back up ready and waiting. You okay?" she asked Marshall as he seemed to be focusing on breathing.  
  
"Oh yeah. . .just fine" he said, trying to laugh, but being unsuccessful.  
  
"Don't worry. . .this is a simple grab and go. We'll just knock them out, grab the scroll and walk out. It's as simple as that" she summarized for him.  
  
There wasn't much else she could say as they approached the cathedral, although to both their surprise, it was much larger than they thought it would be. Which meant that unless the KGB operatives knew exactly where it was, they could probably spend a week in there and still come up empty.  
  
"Okay. . .here we go. Just look like you're better than everyone else. Don't talk to anybody, even if you bump into someone or something" she said to Marshall as the driver came out and opened the door for them.  
  
Walking slowly up to the cathedral, they passed the hundreds of people that appeared to be waiting in line to get in. That was a good sign for them as it would keep them inconspicuous if they needed to be.  
  
"Enter through the back door, there's a security guard waiting there" a voice said suddenly near Marshall.  
  
It took him a minute to realize that he had put his com set on, but so far this was the first time anyone on the other end had spoken to him.  
  
Leila seemed to have gotten the message as well, as they headed around the cathedral to the massive doors where a large and gruff looking security guard dressed all in black stood watch.  
  
He watched them come towards him, looking them over as they approached.  
  
"Madmoiselle Bertrand et Monsieur Artigne" Leila said with a surprisingly good French accent and motioning towards her and Marshall. "Nous sommes avec le Commissionne du Point de Repère Historique. Je crois que nos compagnons est déjà dans la cathedral" and with that she flashed her identification.  
  
The security guard looked Marshall over, and so, with an annoyed sigh (which he thought sounded rather convincing) Marshall took out his identification and showed it to the guard.  
  
"D'accord."  
  
The guard moved aside and allowed them to pass. Unfortunately, the time they spent convincing the guard to let them in, was time they could have spent catching up to their targets.  
  
They quickly entered the cathedral, not expecting to see a low cut ceiling and what looked to be a secretary's desk. Apparently the back had been made into a sort of office area, which served as the staff's work center.  
  
A voice from behind made them turn, as they had been looking for any possible indications of where their targets had gone.  
  
"Vous êtes un peu en retarde" a petit elder woman said to them as she approached. "Le directeur a pris vos compagnons sur un tour. Je crois qu'ils sont dans le soubassement. Il y a une galerie privé là-bas. Si vous prenez l'escalier là" she pointed to across the corridor "vous leur verrez."  
  
Leila barely waited for the lady to finish her sentence before she quickly hurried towards the staircase that the lady had pointed to.  
  
As Marshall quickly caught up, he whispered next to her. "What did she say?"  
  
"She said that they went down the staircase. There's a private gallery downstairs. I'm guessing that's where the scroll is kept."  
  
Making their way down the stairs, she slowed her pace so that her footsteps could barely be heard.  
  
Both their com sets seemed to pick up static as they descended, and pretty soon reception was lost. Hopefully lack of communications wouldn't be a problem.  
  
The staircase finally ending, Marshall and Leila found themselves looking down a large, yet damp, torch-lit corridor, which was very gothic like in appearance.  
  
Walking slowly down the corridor, it didn't take long before a figure became visible at the far end.  
  
Sitting upright on the stone wall was a man dressed in a sharp suit. . .with several bullet holes in his chest.  
  
"They're armed" Leila said with a sigh as she checked the man's pulse. Not noticing Marshall's look of horror, she took out a pistol from a hidden holster under her blazer . . .just in case.  
  
Motioning for Marshall to keep quiet, they both crept along the rest of the pathway, which made a sharp left turn and ended with a large dome shaped, wooden door. It was slightly ajar.  
  
Putting her ear to the door, Leila could barely make out the voices that seemed to echo throughout the room.  
  
Taking out a small compact from her pocket, she opened it to reveal a small vial of a colorless liquid, which seemed to be attached to a thin spray valve. Spraying the hinges of the door, she opened it slowly, happy to see that the oil had worked in preventing the door from creaking.  
  
Allowing Marshall to peer inside, he quickly noted that there were more stairs that had been formed out of the cave wall, which led downwards in a spiral to where countless glass cases were propped up on podiums.  
  
He couldn't make out the people faces, but he was happy at least to see that there were only two of them as they had suspected. They seemed to be looking at various glass cases, before setting down what looked to be a small black bag.  
  
He could hear the sound of glass being cut, and knew immediately that they had found what they all had been looking for.  
  
"There's two of them, and I think they've figured out which one is the scroll!" he whispered urgently.  
  
Hurrying, Leila put down her gun, and suitcase. Opening it, she found what she was looking for. Taking out a glass jar, she opened it and took out a small light blue rubber ball.  
  
"You might need more than one. . .the rooms really big" Marshall said as he realized what she was going to do.  
  
Reaching in and taking out three more, she inched towards the door and threw them in one by one.  
  
Marshall watched his tiny creations bounce down the stairs before suddenly stopping. They were working. . .to his delight.  
  
Hearing the sound of two faint thumps, both of them opened the door all the way and slowly descended down the stairs. The two of them had pistols in their hands (which Leila had handed to him. . .despite his reluctance) just in case the compound hadn't knocked them out.  
  
But it seemed to have worked. As they got nearer they noticed that two figures seemed hunched over one another, neither of them moving.  
  
Tip-toeing cautiously towards the glass case (which now had a large circular hole in the middle) Leila slowly reached in and grabbed the scroll.  
  
The fear of an alarm being triggered didn't come to pass as Leila brought her arm back out.  
  
"I need the copy Marshall" she whispered softly to him as she handed him the scroll.  
  
Marshall in turn, immediately took out of his jacket, a small scroll, not identical to the original. . .but close enough.  
  
As Leila put the copy back in the glass case, Marshall opened the original and read through it. Thank heavens for his photographic memory.  
  
As they turned to leave, Leila edged down and slowly picked up the pistol that lay beside the man. Something about him. . .something about both of them struck her as odd. . .even those they both seemed to be face down on the ground.  
  
"What are you doing?!" Marshall exclaimed quietly as Leila slowly pushed both the KGB members over on one side.  
  
"Oh shit" Leila said softly, something that Marshall never really expected her to say.  
  
As Marshall bent down, he too seemed very surprised.  
  
Ana Espinosa and Mr. Sark lay right in front of them, very much unconscious.  
  
Turning around and basically running up the stairs, Marshall followed. . .not really understanding what the big deal was. . .despite the fact that they knew who the operatives were.  
  
"This is bad. . .well it's good too" she started as they made their way back down the corridor. "I've only known of the two of them working on one other case together, (considering the fact that their respective agencies are against each other) and it was for something very important. Hell, I don't even know what it was. If they came for the scroll, it must be more important than we thought it was."  
  
That was all she said as they started climbing back up the stairs. Of course, Leila made several glances back as a precaution.  
  
"God I wish I could kill them" she muttered as they almost reached the main floor. Her murderous thoughts however were interrupted as a loud voice rang in both her and Marshall's ears."  
  
"Leila! Marshall! Get the hell out of there!" John their Op leader yelled.  
  
"What's wrong?!" Leila said quietly back as they were now on the main floor and making their way towards the exit door.  
  
"The KGB knows you're there! Someone must have been standing watch! Both vans are standing by at both locations to pick you up, so get out of there!"  
  
Marshall immediately seemed to suffer an anxiety attack and now started sweating heavily as they pretty much ran towards the exit.  
  
In the meantime Leila was trying to figure out who could have tipped them off. Passing the old lady that had told them which way to go, she noticed that the lady was wearing a blue blazer with the letters S and C emblazoned in gold.  
  
Looking around, Leila realized who it was.  
  
Running head on to the door now, Leila didn't appear to have surprised the guard, who had apparently stood waiting for them. He was the one who tipped them off.  
  
As he reached for what could only be his gun, Leila kicked him in the stomach, ignoring the shocked voices that echoed around her.  
  
Unfortunately the man in question weighed at least a hundred pounds more than she did, and he therefore recovered from having the wind knocked out of him.  
  
Ignoring his gun, he dealt a punch in her direction, which she quickly ducked. Kicking out her right foot, she swung it around and behind the guard, which thankfully caught him off guard and sent him to the ground.  
  
Not even looking behind her, Leila got up and ran out the cathedral hoping to get mixed in with the crowd.  
  
She didn't notice that the guard had recovered again rather quickly and now had his gun aimed at her in the distance.  
  
"Leila move!" and with a shout Marshall lunged for the guard, which sent both of them sprawling to the ground. Three months of intensive training kicked in as Marshall quickly disarmed him and sent a quick blow of his elbow towards the guy's neck, which caused the guard to lie there choking.  
  
Not really having time to register what he just did, Marshall grabbed the gun and sprinted after Leila. Unfortunately they didn't get far.  
  
As they headed down the street to wear a van waited, they were abruptly cut off as three black town cars swerved onto the street and headed straight for them.  
  
"Oh my god! What are we gonna do?! You have t-we have to do something!" Marshall said, not really seeing any escape.  
  
Looking to her left, Leila saw a small café right next to the cathedral, which appeared to be unblocked by any traffic whatsoever. Her eyes lit up however, and she grabbed Marshall's arm and made a dash towards the café.  
  
***  
  
The young couple had no idea what was going on as the girl got out of her car, as what appeared to be her boyfriend, parked it.  
  
In a flash however, the man lay sprawled on the floor, with Leila in the driver's seat, the car keys in her hand.  
  
"Get in Marshall!" she yelled to him as she started the car.  
  
"I'm so sorry! I swear w-we'll pay for any damages, honest!" he said sincerely to the man, who was now waving at them angrily as they sped down the street.  
  
For a car a chase, Leila sure had picked a prime car. The black Mercedes convertible seemed highly versatile and fast. . .which they were definitely going to be making use of.  
  
The three black town cars, which seemed to have realized the two's change of plans, quickly swerved around and were now hot on their tail.  
  
"This is so not my day. . ." she yelled at no one in particular as she made a sudden left turn and sped along down a small French alleyway.  
  
Unfortunately, the journey didn't last long as the end of the alleyway revealed about fifty wooden crates which blocked the rest of the road.  
  
Screeching to a halt, they both watched as the black cars behind them blocked off the only exit.  
  
"W-What to we do now?" Marshall said looking at Leila, who seemed to have become unusually silent.  
  
It seemed as if several minutes passed before she even answered, although it couldn't have been more than a second or two.  
  
"We wait" she said evenly, watching as the KGB got closer and closer. . .  
  
  
  
To Be Continued. . .  
  
  
  
*Translations are as follows:  
  
"Madmoiselle Bertrand et Monsieur Artigne  
  
Miss Bertrand and Mr. Artigne  
  
"Nous sommes avec le Commissionne du Point de Repère Historique. Je crois que nos compagnons est déjà dans la cathedral"  
  
We're with the Commission of Historical Landmarks. I assume that our associates are already inside the cathedral.  
  
"D'accord."  
  
Alright  
  
"Vous etes un peu en retarde"  
  
You're a bit late.  
  
"Le directeur a pris vos compagnons sur un tour. Je crois qu'ils sont dans le soubassement. Il y a une galerie privé là-bas. Si vous prenez l'escalier là" she pointed to across the corridor "vous leur verrez."  
  
The director has taken your associates on a tour. I believe that they're in the basement. There's a private gallery down there. If you take the staircase there she pointed to across the corridor you'll see them. 


End file.
